New Views
by Gandalf3213
Summary: After finishing another case, both Frank and Joe come down with the flu. While under the weather, they are kidnapped by a man who wants revenge against their father.
1. Joe

I couldn't help gasping as I broke the surface of the water. And shivering. Lots of shivering.

Hey, you try plunging into ice cold water in the middle of December while running away from a maniac who wanted to kill you and looking for your brother.

Speaking of which... "Frank!" I called gazing around Barment Bay. "Frank!" I thought about what had happened before Frank had disappeared under the surface of the water. They were running from Jack Spice, the person responsible for the rash of robberies around Bayport. Chet was supposed to throw a net on the man, like in Scooby Doo.

Things had not gone exactly as planned, and Frank had gotten a great wallop over the head by a tree branch.

And then he fell into the bay.

Which is why I was here now, spitting my own blond hair out of my mouth and looking around for Frank. But what Frank had gotten a concussion? He wouldn't be able to surface.

"I am going to kill you, Frank." I swore before diving under the surface of the ice-cold water.

Seriously, there is nothing that wakes you up better then diving into a lake in the winter. You should try it one time. If you want pneumonia.

I managed to open my eyes, ignoring the horrible stinging. I looked towards the bottom of the lake. And there was Frank. Wrapped around his leg was a long piece of seaweed. I dove down after him, pulling out my pocket knife on the way.

Frank was pulling urgently at his leg. Of course, urgently for a guy who had been underwater for a minute and a half wasn't exactly the most urgent urgent.

Ouch! Brain pain.

Okay, brother very close to suffocating now. Focus, Joe.

I hacked at the last bit of the seaweed and unhooked the slimy plant from Frank's leg. I pulled under Frank's arms and hauled him slowly. Really slowly. To the surface.

I broke the surface of the water. Again. This time, hauling Frank up with me. I swam slowly to the shore, vaguely happy that police sirens were wailing from the other side of the bay. That meant Chet had managed to alert the authorities and (hopefully) catch Spice.

But as I carried Frank over the ground, I had another priority. Three guesses what?

Yeah, that'd be saving my brother. He was coughing. Okay, coughing meant he was alive, but he was coughing up blood. Not good.

"Frank," I knelt beside him, hoping that maybe I'd be able to help. He was gasping, holding his throat. I had an idea.

"Sorry, Frank." I muttered, then whacked him in the back. Hard. That stopped the coughing, at least.

Frank smiled at me, "Thanks, little brother."

I wish he wasn't so beat up, that way I could hit him. I hated it when he called me little brother. "You okay?"

He rolled his eyes at me. "I guess. But man, am I cold." He rubbed his arms, trying to generate some heat. It wasn't exactly working.

"So, was Spice caught?" he asked. I shrugged. How was I supposed to know?


	2. Frank

**I own nothing**

_Sorry for deleting this, guys. I had to start from scratch, so a couple things might be changed. Overall, it's the same chapter._

I was just about to walk out the door when Aunt Gertrude grabbed my arm. "Where do you think you're going, mister?" she asked, her eyes glinting dangerously. I rolled my eyes and yanked my hand out of her grasp.

"Out with Callie. I promised her a movie." I tried to move past her but she again blocked the door.

"I am going out." She said, "And since neither of your parents are home, I think it would be advisable for you to stay with Joe."

I'm pretty sure both me and Joe, who was on the couch under a mountain of blankets still suffering form the last of his pneumonia, groaned at the exact same time. "I do _not_ need a babysitter!" My brother argued, "Especially Frank!"

Aunt Gertrude's voice was shrill, "Do you remember, Frank, what happened the last time you left your brother home alone?"

I did. He'd been kidnapped by a lowlife that wanted revenge against dad and had been about to be sold off like a piece of furniture. I backed away from the door and threw my coat on the chair. "Yeah, alright, I'll stay."

I could here Joe sigh and saw Aunt Gertrude leave the house, but I wasn't really all _there,_ if you know what I mean. I was thinking about all the trouble my little brother had gotten into.

Fact one, Joe had been kidnapped eight times in his seventeen years, which must be a record of some sort.

Fact two, he saw his girl friend die and witnessed some truly horrible murders.

Fact three, his immune system has been off ever since he insisted on trying to catch a guy while battling a hundred and five degree fever.

And fact four, he had come _this close _to not graduating, even though he had almost straight A's. He had missed fifty-something days of school, because of the first and thirs fact. So yeah, you can say I'm a little over protective of him...actually, Joe would sayI'm a lot over protective.

I flopped down on the couch next to Joe, staring at him as he stared at the TV. He was coughing, the type of cough that makes you wince just to hear it, because it sounds like ny minute the person is going to cough up their lungs. He started to speak after his fit was over and his voice was hoarse.

"You shouldn't of stayed, Frank. I can take care of myself. And you haven't seen Callie in ages. Plus, I'm gonna be no fun, with this stupid cold." His monolouge was punctuated with coughs and gasps. He was really in bad shape. I had gotten over my pneumonia three days ago.

"Nah, you're so bad off, I bet you couldn't walk across the room, let alone fight off a load of bad-guys." I got a pillow thrown at me for that, and I threw it back at him. It soon turned into a full-blown pillow fight, every man for himself. I heard the door open behind me, but assumed it was Aunt Gertrude, who had forgotten something, as usual.

The next second a fist shot out of nowhere and hit me in the back of the head.

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Yeah, so, sorry about deleting it. 


	3. Joe Again

**I don't own it.**

Frank was down, but not out. There are four men in the room, as far as I can tell. We were outnumbered. "Frank!" I called, fighting the urge to cough again. _Stupid pneumonia_. "You take those ones, 'kay?"

I got to my feet, trying mys best not to betray how weak I was. As far as these goons knew, I was in top form. I lunged for the nearest one. And nearly tripped.

_Okay, no more lunging_. I decided to stand my ground. Plant the feet, let them come to you.

My plan was working. One guy came right at me, fists in front of his chest. I couldn't believe that none of these guys had weapons! He aimed right for my chest-a big round swing.

See the thing about round swings is that you can always step right into them if you're fast enough. The problem was, I didn't know if I was fast enough or not. A week ago I would have been.

But it's always worth a shot, right?

So I took my shot, and I missed nothing else to say about it. Okay, there's one more thing to say about it.

I got clobbered on the back of my head, right on the neck. I knew I was out, and I didn't fight it. Not because I didn't want to-I wanted to more then anything in the world. I just couldn't.

The last thing I remember before I went out was frank fighting all four guys at once. That's my brother, never goes out without a fight.

The worst thing about getting clobbered during an obvious kidnapping was not knowing if you'd ever wake up again. But the second worst thing is not knowing were you were when you did wake up, or how long you've been out.

Luckily, I did wake up again. In the back seat of a car, tied hand and foot, a gag in my mouth. Okay, so I was pretty bad off, but I wasn't dead. That was something, right? I turned my head as much I could to see Frank lying beside me. A long, nasty looking gash on his forehead. That had to hurt.

"Frank?" I nudged him with my foot, he rolled over and groaned a bit. I knew that fighting four guys at once must not have been easy, but I needed Frank right now. We had to get out of this.

Finally, my brother opened his eyes, and I breathed out a sigh of relief. "I thought you were down for the count!" I exclaimed, more happy then I've ever been in my life at being wrong.

"Untie my hands," he whispered, rolling over. I felt around with my hands until I found the know. I ran my hands over it. A simple sheet knot. I could untie these in my sleep.

Just as I was about to set to work, though, the car came to a shuddering stop. Frank turned his face towards me, and I could see a look of confused worry etched in every line of his face.

The window of opportunity was gone. We were in the hands of kidnappers.

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	4. Frank Again

**I own it not**

I could feel myself tensing as the men opened the back door. A man in a brown jacket hauled me out of the car, depositing me on the cold concrete. Did I mention that it was the middle of winter, and neither of us had anything more on then T-shirts?

I winced as I heard Joe's body hit the ground. I knew that he must be in pain, 'cause his fever still hadn't broken. I glanced at him, and he smiled at me weakly. I knew he was trying to be reassuring. He wasn't doing a good job.

Brown Jacket and his three friends hauled us to our feet. Three for me, one for Joe. I knew that Joe would hate this if he'd been in better shape, 'cause he always was the one who had to fight the most bad guys at once. Never the other way around.

I looked around the abandoned lot. The stereotypical setting for a hideout. You know, abandoned warehouse next to a seldom-used alley. I looked up at the sky and knew that it was going to snow. I really, _really_ hoped it wouldn't. A snow storm would wash away any tracks we had left behind.

_If only my hands were untied_. I thought. I knew I'd be able to get free and give these guys what was coming to them. The only reason they had us in the first place was the element of surprise. I've always hated the element of surprise.

The men brought us to the bottom of the warehouse. The basement. Why is it always basements, you might ask?

Got me.

These guys didn't waste any time. The men threw us on the floor (threw being the operative word) and went to another corner of the room. I went over to my brother. "You okay?"

"As okay as I can be after getting kidnapped by men who look like they want to kill us." He whispered savagely at me. The words were interrupted by coughing, however, so it sounded more like-"As okay" cough cough, "can be after kidnapped," more coughs, "men look want to kill us." A gigantic coughing fit.

I shook my head slowly, trying to think up a plan. I glanced at Joe, who's face was turning slowly paler. I knew that muscle wasn't the way out of here, at least not until Joe got better. Which would take a miracle, by the way.

The men's talking rose, and I watched them out of the corner of my eye. They seemed to be arguing about who would go out and call in the ransom. Great. After a heated argument, a guy with green pants left the warehouse.

And the other three guys came towards us. Uh-oh, not good.

A guy who had no hair grabbed Joe and yanked him upright, while Brown Jacket and the other guy grabbed me.

"Now," Brown Jacket whispered menacingly, "You get to watch the same thing happen to your brother that happened to mine." Seriously not good.

I fought as hard as I could and almost tripped-my feet were still tied. I looked at Joe, and saw fear in his eyes. We both knew that this wacko would be as good as his word. We also guessed that he meant his brother had died, in relation to one of dad's cases.

A felt, rather then saw, one of the men behind me nod there head. Quicker then I could see, No Hair pinned one of Joe's arms behind his back and yanked the other one up-hard.

I don't know which one of us screamed louder, me or Joe.

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	5. Another Joe

**I own nothing**

I remember screaming. And I remember pain. Yelling, anger, cold. Then nothing. The last thing I remember is hoping that Frank would be okay. And that he wouldn't worry to much, because not thinking was...nice. And way easier.

But it couldn't last forever. I woke up to a blinding headache, and I screamed again. The only pain now was the one in my head, because my head knew that my arm was broken, but my arm didn't.

Kind of weird, don't you think?

But it was true. My arm was numb, and I couldn't move it more then a centimeter without doubling over from pain, but it didn't hurt. Which seriously scared me more then any amount of pain would have.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and I immediately cringed away from it. "Hey, hey," I was insanely relived to hear Frank's voice. "Let me look at that arm."

I managed to hold still as he prodded my arm. I looked away as he did it, because I didn't want to see what it looked like. When he reached a certain spot, I let out a scream. Frank's hand clamped itself over my mouth. "Shhh..." he whispered, looking anxious.

I pulled away from him, and I could feel tears in my eyes. I brushed them away impatiently with my good hand, trying to keep the pain at bay. I managed to ask Frank, "Where are they?"

He shrugged. "Not in this room and that's all that matters. Geeze, Joe, how is it that you always get hurt?" I knew that he was trying to tease, but the worried look in his eyes made the joke fall short of perfect.

I tried to joke back. "It's cause I'm prettier then you." He punched me on the arm, luckily, the one that wasn't broken. I glared at him, though I could still feel the tears in my eyes, and I blinked quickly to get them to disappear.

Frank looked at me for a second, then moved forward. I could see bruises layering his arms and wanted to groan, but I couldn't seem to muster up the energy. Frank hugged me, and it was only then that I realized that I was shivering.

Frank seemed to realize it too, because he mumbled, "What are we going to do with you, Old Buddy?"

I just shrugged, and buried my self deeper in his shirt, letting the pain take me away once again.

* * *

Fenton Hardy roared with anger after he hung up the phone. After coming home and realizing that both his sons were missing, he had assumed that they had gone out. That phone call had changed everything.

He went into the living room to find his wife, who was just hanging up her coat. "Have you heard from the boys, Fenton?" she asked without turning around.

Fenton thought that she should know, and now. "Sweetheart, the boys, they've been kidnapped. The kidnapped just said that he was getting 'his revenge.'" The worst part was Fenton had to see his wife drop down in a faint.

The other worst part was that he knew exactly who had his sons. It was someone he'd hoped never to be dealing with again.

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	6. A Different View

**I own nothing**

Frank couldn't let himself go to sleep, even though his entire body wanted him to. He needed to watch over Joe. Because he couldn't take seeing him get hurt again. Frank slid his brother off him as carefully as he could and laid him down on a section of cement that wasn't quite as wet as the rest of the room.

Frank paced up and down. The only way out were windows that were eight feet off the ground and only a foot high at most. There was no way he or Joe was going out that way.

He knew that by now the kidnappers had contacted his father. He knew that his father and the whole Bayport Police squad would be looking for him. And he knew he'd have to find a way for them to find him easily.

Frank lifted a discarded board and angled it on his shoulders. He took a running start before ramming in against one of the windows, which broke easily.

He listened for sounds of movement from up above. When he heard none, he started looking up and down the walls. He was looking for a fragment of rock that would be able to cut through a few layers of wood. So that he'd be able to write a message on the board.

Finally, he found a stone that was just sharp enough on one end to make an indentation in the wood. He picked it up and carefully wrote-

HELP KIDNAPPED GET POLICE.

He threw the board out the broken window, hoping that their kidnappers wouldn't spot it before one of the "good guys" did.

Frank was suddenly exhausted. He hadn't had any real sleep since...since he didn't know when. He sat down next to his brother, wrapping his arms around him. Nobody was going to take his little brother away from him.

Not over his dead body.

* * *

Fifteen-year-old Amanda Louis walked her dog, Jude, down the street, as she did every morning. She was listening to her iPod and not paying much attention. Suddenly, Jude tugged the leash out of her hands and ran into the woods.

Amanda sighed, glad that the sun was up, at least. She pulled off her headphones and plunged into the forest after her dog.

It wasn't long before she spotted him sniffing an old piece of wood near an abandoned warehouse "What do you have there, Jude?" she asked, turning the piece of wood over in her hands. She gasped as she read the message, then tugged at the dog's leash and broke out in a run.

* * *

"So you're saying that two teenage boys were kidnapped?" Amanda couldn't believe what she was hearing.

Con Riley nodded. "Yeah. Thanks for telling us about it. We were really worried. We didn't know where to look. It's lucky you found it."

Amanda could tell the officer was more excited about this discovery then he was letting on, but she was quick to add. "Oh, I didn't find it. Jude did." She patted her dog on the back.

"Jude like the song?" Con asked, getting up to file the report and taking the piece of wood with him.

Amanda called after him. "No, Jude like the saint. St. Jude's the patron saint of lost causes."

The officer turned around. "Lost causes? Well, maybe we can use your help with this, little miss." Amanda couldn't tell if he was joking or being serious, but decided to play along anyway. "Why?"

Con was about to close the door. "Because this is a lost cause if I'd ever seen one."

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	7. Another Frank

**I own nothing**

I woke up, and realized that Joe wasn't next to me anymore. I have to admit it. I panicked, big time. I looked all over the small basement and saw him huddled in a corner, his good arm cradling the broken one. He had a huge bruise on his face.

"Joe!" I sat next to my brother, holding him close to me. "What trouble did you get yourself in this time?" I asked, bringing the hint of a smile out on his face.

"I need to get out of here, Frank. I can't stand it anymore! When the monsters came down, I guess to make sure we didn't escape, I picked a fight with them. One punch from me, one from them. I think I broke a nose, but I got a nice shiner out of the deal, too." The speech was punctuated by coughs. This basement wasn't doing anything for his cold.

I couldn't believe I'd slept through this. "I would have helped you, Joe."

Joe gave me a lopsided grin. "I saw the broken window, Frank. You must have done something _I_ didn't know about." He coughed again. I was worried, Joe shouldn't be in a basement with a pneumonia _and_ a broken arm.

Actually, he shouldn't be in the basement at all. And neither should I.

I ruffled his hair (how could somebody's head be this hot!) and told him about the HELP message. "I only hope somebody finds it. And gives it to the police."

Both of us jumped when a door slammed. I stood up, pulling Joe with me. Footsteps were on the stairs. Seconds later, the troupe of monsters were just feet away from us, smiling evilly. I pushed Joe behind me. I wouldn't let him get hurt again.

"Hello, boys, I hope you slept well." the leader, probably, advanced on us. "I think it's time for another demonstration, only this time-" he motioned to Baldy, the one who'd broken Joe's arm. "We'll try the other brother."

My heart was beating in double time. I felt Joe grip the back of my shirt, but he was pulled away when Baldy grabbed my arms, pinning them at my sides. The only good thing about it being me this time was that Joe wouldn't get hurt for now.

Leader Man flicked out a switch blade. Joe made a movement as if to take the knife, but his illness made his reflexes weaker. He was grabbed by another henchman in two seconds. I looked at him, begging him with my eyes not to do anything stupid.

"Okay guys, biology 101, what does blood look like?"

I turned my head away and bit my lip as he dragged the knife slowly over my exposed arms. Two long lines. I could feel the blood dripping down into my hands and on the floor. A second later, one more stripe was cut into my back, a deep one.

I was seeing spots now, but fought to stay conscious. I couldn't give them the satisfaction of passing out. Thankfully, that was the last one, and when Baldy let go of my arms, I slumped to the floor, hearing their laughter disappear back up the steps.

Joe crouched next to me. "You (cough) okay (cough cough) Frank?"

I wasn't. My back and arms hurt like nothing you would believe, but I managed to focus on Joe. We needed to get out of here, soon. He was getting worse, fast. And the blood from my arms and back wouldn't stop. And his arm was dangling uselessly at his side, black and blue and swollen.

We were a mess.

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	8. More Joe

**I don't own the Hardy Boys.**

I managed to stop the bleeding on Frank's arms by ripping up my own shirt. That, of course, made me shiver more then my cold was already making me shiver. Plus, I was way, way hungry, not having eaten in a day and a half.

Frank looked terrible. His face was a pale white and a pool of his blood was across the room. Even so, he looked more worried about me then he was about himself. He kept shooting anxious looks in my direction and dragged my body towards his, making both of our shivers subside.

The basement was silent, the only things that broke the monotony was the steady dripping of some water in the far corner and my fits of coughing.

I knew (and suspected that Frank also guessed) that my cough was turning back into pneumonia. My lungs burned and my insides were twisted into many tiny knots.

I refused to look at my arm, which had started to throb with each beat of my heart. I must have winced, because Frank lifted the useless arm onto his lap and examined it. He started talking to me softly.

"Part of the bone is sticking out…it's really ugly, by the way." I knew he was trying to make me laugh, but all I could manage was a weak smile, and even that hurt. "And it's really black and blue." He continued, gently moving his hands up and down my arm, watching me intently.

I stifled a scream and turned it into a groan instead.

I wrenched my arm away from my brother and cradled it in my other arm, glaring at Frank. That had really, _really_ hurt. Seeing his hurt look, I tried to calm down. I leaned back against him and took in a deep, shuddering breath.

I felt his fingers run through my hair and tried to relax my muscles, coughing again. Frank laughed quietly.

"I can't take you anywhere, can I?" he murmured, and this time, he did get a laugh out of me, though it turned into a hiccup halfway through.

I hoped that someone would find us soon, because I couldn't take much more of this. All of it. I wanted out, right now. And I needed Frank to come with me.

I can't really say when I fell asleep, only that it was soon after I had leaned against Frank. I just listened to his heartbeat, trying not to imagine what would happen if it stopped.

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Short, I know. Just review, 'kay? 


	9. More Frank

**Okay, I don't own anything.**

I woke up with a start, scaring my brother and making him scream. I quickly clapped one hand over his mouth and listened, wondering what had woken me up. From my watch, I knew it was about four. I glanced up at the window…and had to stifle a scream my self.

Con Riley's face was staring back at me.

"Con!" I whispered. Joe looked around and practically screamed the same thing. Because seeing Con meant one thing. Well, actually it meant a lot of things.

One, we get to get out of this hell-hole. Two, both Joe and I get to go to the hospital. Three, our captors get to go to jail. Four, we get to eat something. Did I mention I was starving? Joe was probably a lot hungrier then I was, because we couldn't force him to eat while he was sick.

Con put a finger to his lips, and both of us quieted down. By leaning against each other, and with a lot of pulling, we were able to stand up. We were _so_ messed up.

"I need you to come over to the win-"

_Bang!_

The door at the top of the stairs opened. I took one glance at Joe, seeing in his eyes a look of wild panic and fear. We needed to get out of here!

Before we had even gone three steps, our captors were on top of us. My arms got pinned to my sides before I could even have a chance. Joe had tried to struggle, and I saw him almost through off one of the smaller guys, but one of the bigger guys grabbed him around the neck before pinning his arms to his sides. Joe started coughing again.

Con's face was actually pretty funny. First it was confusion, then disbelief, then fear, and now anger. He spoke directly to Mr. Leader. "We have this place surrounded by cops. They're breaking down the door as we speak."

His voice was so calm and cool, with more then a hint of ice in it, that I didn't know whether he was bluffing or not. Just for the record, though. Con's not the world's best liar.

One of the guy's looked uneasy for a second, but Leader guy just laughed. "yeah, right. You expect me to believe that load of-"

Another loud _Bang!_ came from upstairs. In two seconds flat, what looked like the entire police squad was in the small basement, plus dad, plus a girl I didn't know. And a dog. Chief Collig was in front, holding a gun. Actually, most of the guys were holding guns, all pointed at us. Or rather, the guys holding us.

Leader dude took one look at the assembly and laughed again. He nodded once to his companions. The next thing I knew, a sharp blade was at my throat, pressing just hard enough to draw blood.

I really hoped that Joe wouldn't cough. He might take his head off.

**Okay, I think two more chapters will do it. You guys really have to review though.**


	10. The Last Joe

**I own it not**

I gulped, feeling a trickle of blood run down my neck. The smooth coldness of the blade against my neck was scary. Really scary. Even scarier was the fact that I had to cough. I bit my tongue so hard that the metallic taste of warm blood trickled down my throat.

I could practically see the gears moving in my brother's brain. His eyes kept going from the Leader dude to Chief Collig to me. I knew what he was thinking. We would usually be able to take down these guys, no sweat. But I had a painful broken arm and burning lungs. Frank had lost so much blood that I didn't even want to think about it.

But maybe a diversion? The cops would only need about two seconds to take the guys down. Dad would only need one and half, judging by the fire in his eyes. So we started bantering.

It was a load of rubbish, just so you know. It is very difficult to keep your mind on a sensible conversation with a blade at your throat and trying to swallow back one heck of a cough. But it was the only chance we had.

"You know, I think it was kind of stupid to stay home that night." Frank started, and though his voice, as always, was calm and steady, I could see his hands shake.

"Oh definitely. Maybe we should have gone and grabbed a bite to eat." I just had to keep talking. Some of the guys already had their eyes on us.

Frank's eyes held mine, "Maybe you shouldn't have come down with pneumonia, stupid." Most if the eyes were on us.

"Nerd." I couldn't help smiling, even in our hopeless situation. This was our usual conversation of insults.

"Hot-head." He said back to me. Now we had all eyes on us. Just a couple more seconds…

"I know you are, but what am I?"

_Slam!_

Dad got Leader guy on the chin, and both of them went down. Collig got Frank's thug, ripping the guy's hands away from my brother. Con tackled my dude, and we all went down. Con continued to wrestle, but I just laid still. I was exhausted.

Frank was about three feet away. The cut on his neck was deeper then mine was, but he was still breathing. He smiled weakly at me, and smiled back, erupting into a fit of coughing that could not be stopped.

I think I must have passed out, maybe from lack of oxygen, or because I was so hungry, or because I was just so scared.

The last thing I remember was the dog licking me. Stupid dog.

**One chapter to go! Review?**


	11. The Last Frank

**I own nothing**

I woke up in a hospital bed with an IV dripping a red liquid into my arm. Dad was asleep in a chair next to the bed but woke up when I inhaled deeply. "How are you?" he asked, looking me over from head to toe.

I shrugged. I was better, of course. Nothing could be worse then being in that basement. I was dizzy as a dodo bird ― probably from losing so much blood ― and the cuts on my back and arms smarted. But Joe and I had gotten out of there alive.

Joe!

"Where's Joe?" my voice was horse and I could feel a band-aid on my throat from where the knife had cut into it, but that didn't really matter.

Dad looked over me to the other bed, where a fit of coughing had suddenly broken out. I exhaled the breath I hadn't known I'd been holding. I blame the whole older-brother complex.

"Great, you finally joined the land of the living." Joe had managed to stop coughing to get out that simple sentence. He was improving after only a couple hours (was it only a couple hours? I had no idea what time it was. The sun was shining out the window) at the hospital.

I propped myself up on one elbow so that I could look at him, "Nice to see you too, sickie." Joe had a white cast on his arm, already signed by ― who else? ― Iola Morton. The cast went up past his elbow. Joe saw me looking at it and smiled a real smile.

"Broke four bones in just one arm. That's a new record, isn't it?" Joe had to stop in the middle of the sentence to catch his breath. He wasn't well yet. Not even close.

Mom was shaking her head. I guess she didn't like that Joe thought breaking his arm was something to brag about, but whatever. Compared to what could have happened, we got out okay.

I let myself sink back down into the pillows. My head was spinning so much I barely knew which way was up. But I still had a couple more questions. Before I even opened my mouth, though, dad was already talking.

"We caught them. The police even managed a confession. They're in jail, and are going to be for a long, long time."

Well, okay. I was going to ask that question, but I had another. "Who was the girl? And the dog?" I sensed Joe nodding. He wanted to know the answer too.

Dad smiled, "The girl was Amanda Louis, and the dog was Jude. They were the ones who found your sign. Good idea, by the way." Dad winked.

Great, everything was perfect. Kind of like happily-ever-after. I was alive. My brother was alive. The villains were behind bars, and they couldn't ever touch us again. So another lot of low-lifes are in prison.

And all we have to do now is find our next case.

**The End. So review.**


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